She does not glow there, broken upon the sand. Any thoughts of bending sunlight to contour her form are nulled, for the effort would be much too great at present. Instead, the glow that shapes her is the same elation felt by every mother watching her child, the same ruddy smile that a grullo mare once gave a young Pevensie. In all these years, she has struggled - feeling alone, feeling set apart from the rest of her kin by her choices and the twist of fate. No longer. As she looks down at her beloved daughter, the first of her children for a very long time, she knows she will never spend another day with regret. All is healed, now.
A cool touch against her boiling flesh, it is only when his skin melts against hers that she knows Hurricane has come to see their child. He is here. He cares. It was not just a magical dream, a desert illusion of a blanket of white snow and a ghostly Mr Rochester lingering just out of touch. It is as if the last sixty years have been a waking dream and it is only now she truly opens her eyes to see - him, her, the three of them together, blissfully ignorant of the rest of the world, protected in this precious moment.
He calls her name. She smiles, a small smile, but a pure one. She closes her eyes, embraces his touch, letting it sooth her aching sides and savouring the velvet tingle of his muzzle on her skin. Her gaze follows to watch Hurricane shield their daughter, the thankful shock of her little face, the adorable 'o' her lips make as she gasps.
"I wouldn't have had it any other way," she whispers, beaming with pride, love, and a mixture of other emotions she can't even begin to place. The satisfaction in watching her daughter stand for the first time, the relief when she succeeds, is just too much for Pev to describe. In fact, her offspring moves with more grace and candour upon the shifting sands that Pevensie has ever been able to lay claim upon.
She totters firstly over to her father, bravely venturing out her muzzle before the imposing stallion. Then, with a flutter of joy and a tachycardia volt to her heart, Pevensie gasps as her daughter turns to gift the same gentle attention to the lying mare. The pony, eyes heavy, blows softly out against her daughters face, drinking in her sweet baby scent.
Pevensie knows now that her babe must be hungry, she must get up. Slowly the buckskin mare unfurls her legs from underneath her, looking nearly as gingerly as her daughter in her attempt to rise to her feet. With much effort and a grunting heave, she stabilises herself on all fours, flicking her tail. Her legs are splayed wide, struggling to take her own load on sapped muscles.
Despite that though, she gazes proudly at her little family. "I don't think I have ever been this happy," is all she can manage to say, looking lovingly over to her mate, the father of her child. They barely know each other, true, but that doesn't matter. Not when they have the little mite between their hooves to unite the two.
Jeeezzz... much muse no?